A Woman's Wish
by WizardsOfHogwarts
Summary: It was then, as he watched her from the crack in the door, that he realized he was in love with Madam Red. He loved her enough to end her, for his sake and hers. Grell/Madame Red central, hints to William/Grell
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

A Woman's Wish

It was then, as he watched her from the crack in the door, that he realized he was in love with Madam Red. He loved her enough to end her, for his sake and hers. Grell/Madame Red central, hints to William/Grell

Rated M for graphic violence, angst, and sexual content

(References to An Eternal Sin are made here)

* * *

><p>There was a scheduled accident upon an aristocratic street of London, England. The accident resulted in the death of two, one man and one unborn child that fallowed after; for the time it was the man's appointment that was top priority.<p>

Grell Sutcliff walked along the sidewalk, his heels clicking the pavement languidly. His normally proud and upheld shoulders were slouched forth in an effortless position to reflect his emotions. Another night, last night to be exact, that William had shut him out from his office and out of his sight. The order was, technically, to never be within the Shinigami's peripheral vision.

He done a great job so far, he made it in the morning to the General Affairs to retrieve his assignment and death scythe without crossing paths with the somewhat relentless man. Grell looked down at the ground and then threw himself at the nearest wall to his his aching back. Soul collections never started for the day until this man and stillborn die a few feet ahead of him.

Colors in the office were a rare sight to see and, to stay out of the norm of dying one's hair dark, Grell became the manifestation of the passionate mirage of the fiery crimson of fire. There were few Shinigami who dare to decide break the norm, save for Eric Slingby and Ronald Knox who had bravely dyed their own hairs blond and black that kept changes somewhat subtle and approving for all.

Then there was Grell, he was instantly rejected by everyone. Perhaps it was his creativeness or his flamboyancy that made the others look the other direction. William T. Spears, the heartthrob of his life, immediately turned to move love to his papers than Grell over the years. He spent years pestering William, eventually acting more obnoxious to gain his, no, anyone and everyone's attention.

His only known approach was sexuality but it was frowned down upon for ages. Frowned upon by all. Frowned upon by him.

Grell sighed. _He told me to leave him alone forever. If he really wanted that he could have put me away or to another manager, but he still gives assignments..._

He shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched slightly.

The London air was cool and crisp, the perfect weather for William. Grell shuddered at the thought of him, he shook his head away of the thoughts. He almost wanted to cry until the strident screech of metal against metal of a set of carriage wheels. Grell looked to his right to see Big Ben's time.

10:25 AM

Grell wiped his eyes and went to the corner of the street to casually wait for the accident. A carriage before him, a few good feet away, caught his glistening eye. It was not the carriage itself, nor the horses nor driver, but the passengers within. One was the man he were to collect, the other was a woman. A woman who looked like she was entrapped within a circus ring and whipped about to perform forced acts to appease the crowds had something special about her.

"Walk on," he heard the nobles' driver command and the carriage creaked out of its stop. Grell grew fixated on the woman, the last he saw of her, smiling and laughing (falsely as he could tell) to her companion in the carriage. He approached, as if the burden of William's banishment towards him had been lifted, with the urge to warn them of their impending fate.

_She's beautiful._

And then she became a flash of red, that was what stood out before anything happened.

_Like a wilting rose._

"No, wait-" His voice was drowned away at another shriek of metals, then a startling crash fallowed it. Grell turned his eyes away, he looked at another direction.

This was the first time he could never face a death. He wanted to run away and leave the mission for someone else and forget whoever he was; start anew as another person would be an easy task with his power but keeping the disguise would always have a price. Grell bit his lip until it bled, he heard shouts and screams of the confused and distraught observers of the accident; he mustered up the courage to face his work.

"Someone! Get a doctor! A carriage crashed into another one! Hurry!"

Grell was the first to respond.

The sight he saw made him feel like he was a measly human witnessing death at work by first hand. The colliding carriage at flipped over from an unsuccessful attempt in swerving to forestall an accident; obviously it failed, it landed on its side and rotated, with horses oddly detached from the yolks, until it slammed strait into the noblewoman and man's carriage, causing it to tip over and ultimately send metal bars (bent from the horses' escape) jabbing strait into the passengers' compartment.

Both drivers came tumbling and flying forth in different directions and landing on a sidewalk without fatal injuries but it was the passenger within the carriage that suffered the most damage that became Grell's focus. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

Grell sprinted to avoid people from seeing him in the midst of their hysteria; luckily they were focused upon the other carriage that lacked a passenger itself.

He hopped strait up to the wreckage. It was on its side, his hand took a hand to the door and lung it open to reveal a most horrid of scenes he had witnessed. No, focus, Grell. Worry after this.

Inside the death trap the metal bars protruded into the cushioned velvet seats. Feathers were scattered among the compartment, blood dyed the walls red, and clothes were torn in multiple places. He summoned his chainsaw, turn the engine on, and revved it; he quickly reaped the man, whose corpse was penetrated through his heart by one of the metal bars.

Cinematic Records were viewed, he quickly watched it and judged him dead.

"Hey, you! Get them out!" Grell could hear the crowd notice him.

On an opposite side of the man's position Grell discovered a woman dressed in nothing but red, even her hair was the same color, the blood was hard to distinguish but the dress darkened in color so quickly. A metal pole came from her womb; it was a freak accident and Grell was suddenly marveled by the woman in red. He paused briefly, thinking he would have to reap her soul next but realized it was the life inside her he would have to collect.

With dexterity, he regretted in doing so, he brought the chainsaw to her womb and, with a bit of pain to his voice, uttered,"My apologies, Lady Angelina."

* * *

><p>AN: I wanted to write this pairing, they deserve attention.

**READ AND REVIEW~!**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

* * *

><p>Grell hefted the limp bodies, one after the other, to the men that were outside and willing to help. He had to send his chainsaw away to avoid a public uproar, not that there was one already from the accident, when he brought the woman into the arms of another. Slowly, Grell cautiously got off of the wreckage and immediately went to a crowd that had gathered around the couple. The two were carefaully laid out in the middle of the street where the debris was minimal.<p>

He pushed gently and went to his knees in front of the woman. Grell faked his quick investigation by placing his ear to her chest, there was a faint heartbeat,"She's alive, get her to the hospital!" Of course he knew she was alive, it wasn't her time to die and he never exactly saw a reason to do so. The wound where the metal bar had penetrated her poured enough blood to form a pool around Grell's knees as he knelt by her.

_Oh, she looks so beautiful._

Of all his years of reaping, the red Shinigami had never seen such a captivating sight of a heavily injured woman. The porcelain, pale skin of the lady in red was inked with the crimson liquid; she looked almost like one of his dolls. She was dressed in a simple scarlet dress, there were modest frills sewn to the edges but not as luxurious as he would have imagined her in. He could only guess that she and her husband (he noticed her wedding ring) were out on an ordinary outing. It was a wonder of how an normal day could suddenly take a turn to change one's life.

When he lifted his head, he got a better look at her. She had an arm bent in an unnatural way, almost disturbing, so she may be bedridden. The fact that he reaped an unborn child meant she would stay in bed for even a longer duration. Her hair, undone from its bun, spilled on to the ground; he saw that there was a gash that ran from her forehead to her crown. For an odd reason, the blood formed a halo around her skull.

A smile wanted to creep to his face but the humans around would suddenly be alarmed.

"Lucky her, the hospital is down the street!" Cried a young lad who was a spectator in all this. Grell snapped out his brief admiration and tore off his coat to drape it over the man who he had reaped earlier. A woman in the crowd gave a cry,"Get the authorities!" Grell suddenly gathered her up in his arms, carrying her like a groom would to a bride when they would enter a new home, and got up. Grell ignored the shouts of the witnesses and began to sprint down the street.

An odd thought crossed his mind.

Why is he helping her? He could have left the scene as he would usually do, care less for the woman in his arms, and meet the lady in red another time when her soul was ready for harvesting. Perhaps the fact that she was most reddest human he had encountered was what drawn him to her. He looked down, just briefly, to see her eyes closed, she looked peaceful somewhat. Until she realizes that she lost those precious to her, that peace would be forever lost.

Grell continued on until he reached the double doors of the Royal London Hospital. He pushed the doors inward and entered.

The pair were a stark contrast to the white and gray of the wealthy establishment. Blood trailed Grell's wake as he slowed to a calm walk, urgent in style and brisk in strides. His hands bundled at her dress and he lifted her to be closer so that he may have a better grip. His heels clicked against the white tiles, each tap resonated through the hallow hall that stretched seemingly to nowhere. The atmosphere was similar to that of the offices back in Grell's world, only it was absent of typewriters and the stamps hitting papers.

Everyone seemed to isolate them, they strangely failed to acknowledge the two as Grell went further into an area where he would most likely to be noticed. Many breezed passed as though they were ghosts, Grell cleared his throat and it appeared that entire hospital erupted into complete and utter chaos.

Several doctors and nurses, who were busy in their line of work, suddenly burst into shouts,"Madam Red!"

Grell winced at their strident calls as orders were made for preparation of a surgery. A young man, bright and a bit fiery, came out of nowhere, wheeling in a gurney to Grell, he barked,"Put her here! Hurry!" Grell instantly, and carefully, placed Madam Red onto the white padded mattress on wheels; blood stained the sheets as doctors ungracefully pushed Grell aside to attend to the woman.

How those humans knew of Madam Red, Grell cared less. When he felt that her safety was confirmed, he slipped out of the foreground and into the background, away from an E.R. drama. A nurse bustled by but took great notice of him, she exclaimed,"Are you hurt?"

Grell shook his head hastily and she ran off to fallow the group attending the lady in red. He looked at his arms, he saw that blood had stained his cuffs; he regretted leaving his jacket with the man now. As quick as he could, he sneaked into an open office and searched for anything to cover him. He spotted a white coat, used by the doctors, on a coat rack, he swiped it off and covered himself with it.

His vest was still covered in red but it was hardly noticeable, he checked himself in the mirror nearby and nodded to himself. He looked presentable and able to go about unnoticed.

He stepped out into the hallway to see the last of the doctors rushing towards a pair of doors that swing open and closed. Like earlier, he went on unnoticed and the hospital began to quiet down; yells were heard but only as echoes. He checked the hall and found it empty but he felt choked in the hospital's atmosphere; it felt like the entire building was holding its breath.

_She won't die today. _

_Why am I still concerned?_

And then, as he walked on, he discovered a red, satin glove sitting on its own on the white flooring. His brows furrowed and he bent down to pick it up. His own leather gloves prevented him from feeling the material but he could guess it was velvet or something of high quality. It was still bloody and he squeezed it to ooze out the blood before folding it neatly and putting it into his pocket.

"I suppose this will give me a reason to come back," he mused to himself as he made his way out of the Royal London Hospital.

He thought he would never have to see her again, he never had the notion he would, but he just had to see her once more.

Big Ben in the distance said the time.

11:03 A.M.

Another soul was up next to die, and he was late. Sighing, he spontaneously sprinted and launched himself to the rooftops to have a faster way of reaching the unfortunate human. The citizens failed to see him, he rolled his eyes and ran on. The scent of gun powder lingered in the air when he reached the general area of where his next human would be.

It was a duel in the back alley, two young men were on the ground, dying. Grell scoffed and immediately leaped down to meet the two that were stupid enough to shoot each other. He approached the closest, a blond, who was gasping for air.

"D..d-..doctor!" He rasped, surprise in his eyes. The bullet had made it to his chest, to his heart; there was no blood pouring fast enough. Grell merely smirked while spitting,"A doctor? Not even close, boy!"

He took out his chainsaw and reaped his soul, judging him dead since he failed to show any potential in changing the world. His opponent, who was still alive and watching Grell mutilate the body, saw him as a monster when Grell splashed blood against the wall to make the death as beautiful as Madam Red's accident. The dying man at the other side managed to take out his revolver, he carefully aimed it at Grell, then he pulled the trigger weakly.

Grell felt the bullet hit him in his right shoulder, he payed no mind. It was only to his arm, he could take care of it later.

"You think you can kill Death, you insolent little brat? !" Grell snapped at him, charging at him and instantly cutting him open to look over his soul and life. Again, he was judged dead and left to rot in the alleyway when Grell was finished with his job.

He dirtied that alley the best he could, it failed to match the beauty of Madam Red. Now she's beginning to influence his work; he sighed and pondered over her as he walked strait into the shadows, he faded away into the darkness and emerged into a world of light, the world of the Shinigami. He sent away his death scythe and began to make his way to the nearest physician building he could find in his world.

Just because he was a god, it didn't mean he should neglect his own health. The sting began to run through his nerves, his shoulder became numb in feeling, he frowned as he walked into the walk-in clinic. Quickly, his wound was treated, bullet taken out and wound bandaged over; the nurse who did his arm gave him a relief from work for the day, she even took his death list so that she could give it to William, who would give it to Ronald since today was his day off.

Grell thanked her, words were hardly passed when she treated him. When she was done, she handed him a bottle of antibiotics so that he wouldn't get an infection. He grimaced at the pills and she gave him a smile.

"I suppose you should be careful next time, Dr. Jayson," she chided him playfully,"so you don't have to take those again."

He looked at the doctor's coat he was wearing, the name tag, golden, with black letters spelled out 'Jayson, H. M.D.' He gave her a slight smile. "I had to get a new coat and thought it would be nice to wear white. It doesn't feel right, it's so booooring."

"Well, I think it suits you, Mr. Sutcliff."

He nodded and eventually walked out of the clinic. He worked long enough and his insurance covered the treatment automatically, while was a haphazard of a Shinigami, it was rare for him to enter the walk-ins or surgical rooms for any sort of treatment. He thought of the woman he brought to the hospital in the world of humans; he walked out alive and well with a minuscule wound while she would have to stay in bed for quite a while.

He figured that when he is free he would visit her, briefly, to return her glove- and to admire the color she sported in the name others called her.

* * *

><p><strong>READ AND REVIEW~!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

* * *

><p>There were a pair of birds chirping outside of Grell's window. He saw them hopping left and right, mingling with one another before stopping and then cuddling close to one another for warmth. Winter winds have become icier than normal in their world, whiteness covered the distant buildings a few ways away from where Grell sat, chewing idly at a pen before breaking it in half by accident, the snap forced him back into this world and the birds had suddenly taken off to be at a more sheltered ledge in the Shinigami Realm.<p>

Grell gagged at the plastic shards in his mouth and used one finger to brush them away. His tongue shifted whatever he could find out to his lips while the rest spat them away.

He was sitting in a chair, a basic wooden chair, that was tucked underneath a simple desk that was right in front of the window. His apartment shared the same treatment, it was neat and uncluttered of items. He only kept what he needed and used over the years, portraits of the ages hung in the hallways and vases from some foreign country sat upon the mantle of his fireplace, which roared happily with the copious wood he had given it. As much as Grell was an obnoxious person, his room told a different side of him.

When alone, he never done much except read, which was the only source of entertainment he would find to comfort himself. Dramas, tragedies, romance, the sorts were placed in alphabetical order upon his shelf; half of them were donated to him by Eric Slingby, a Shinigami known for reading while sitting near a sickbed that held Alan. He had read nearly all over three times over, that is only an indication of how much time he had to himself, that time included overtime.

The bookshelf, however, was only three-fourths of the way full, he had so much to collect and waiting for the author of the century to be born takes time. He was an impatient person when it comes to waiting. Grell sighed and tossed the broken pen and its remnants into the trash, his eyes fell upon the red, bloodstained glove that was spread out on the floor for some odd reason.

Today was his day off, he could only guess that he could visit the owner. It had been...what? Three months since he had seen her? And in three months he had never had free time or was too tired to visit at all. e bent to the side and grabbed it, then he got up to pocket it. He would visit her today.

~...~

When he arrived at the Royal London Hospital, he asked the receptionist that he was a visitor for Madam Red. She asked him for her real name, he quickly spluttered out Angelina Durless from memory as a confirmation. and lie, that he had of some sort of relation to her. The young woman eyed him, skeptical of his intentions, and gave him the location and directions to the woman's room. Grell's long, flowing mane of crimson seemed to attract many that laid eyes upon him, he ignored the stares and ended up at the door that held a plaque with Madam Red's legal name.

There were no voices, an indication that she was asleep. He knocked cautiously, there was no answer. An empty hall and he was alone, he looked left to right and then closed his eyes as his hand gripped the knob of the door. He turned it and carefully opened the wooden panel, he glanced around to see a plant n the corner of the room.

He raised an eyebrow and then opened it even further, he glanced to the right and saw the most beautiful of scenes.

There she was, clothed and covered in white, laying upon her bed. Her hair was undone and splayed itself across the white sheets. Awed by the length, he instantly approached her to touch it. He remembered he was wearing gloves so he removed them to touch the silky strands that fell from his fingers at the touch. He ran his hands through them, he could catch the scent of roses from her, it was as though it came naturally with her. He smiled, just slightly, and then took a gander at her pale face.

Her eyes were closed but her tears were streaked from tears cried before he had arrived. Grell knew he was the cause of the pain, in a way, he felt a tinge of guilt. Just a little bit, but the accident was never his cause. He reasoned out that he never was responsible for anything, he was simply doing his job.

"If only you knew what would happen, Lady," he murmured, he reached behind and pulled out the glove that was stuffed behind him. He eyed it for a second, then he placed it upon her broad chest. He watched it rise up an down slowly, calmly, unknowing of his presence. Another while of gazing upon her, he touched her forearm and found it to be as soft as a newborn's, it was paler than his own and he envied her for that.

The longer he stared, the more he wished that he had her body; she was the perfect image of Grell if he were born a woman. Thoughts ran through his mind. If he were a lady, he would have been better off, finding love would have been easier. He would have charmed William, William would have fallen hard for him, they would have gotten married. They would have a child to call their own, a family of their own; Grell's own torture of loneliness came in to his mind. He yearned for love, the kind a woman should have received.

Tears came.

They came hard.

Grell was a man, William was a man and barely showed any sort of interest towards him; the chances of getting him to like him were slim. Simply knowing he would spend the rest of eternity alone in his empty room, mocked by the white walls, had driven him mad. He was tempted to murder Angelina right here and now, perhaps choke her, have her never live on for the rest of her life, but he just could not bring himself to do so as he sniffled.

Upset, he quickly ghosted his steps to the door and then though the halls and out of the hospital, whimpering to himself and wallowing about through the snow. The weather in the Human Real reflected the Shinigami Realm from time to time, snow was prominent at both worlds in this time of the year.

He was out and about, alone in London without a man to escort him. He sniffled and the tears had frozen themselves upon his cheeks. He shivered until a hand dropped on to his shoulder, he screeched and whirled about, shoving the assailant and baring his teeth before him. Much to his surprise, he found it to be Eric Slingby and Alan Humphries, a pair that had found each other and were content for the rest of eternity.

"You scared me," Grell uttered. What he really wanted to say was for them to fuck off. He envied them the most, they were perfect and compatible with one another; Alan was not even a female and Eric loved him unconditionally. Thinking of their relationship made newer tears flow freely once more, he felt a hand upon his shoulder once more and he saw it to be Alan's when he cleaned his face.

The brunette gave him a soft look, he quietly asked,"What're you doing out here in the cold? C'mon, we'll go to a tea house and have tea. We've been looking all over for you." Grell perked up at his words and nodded instantly. Eric huffed and went by Alan's side to escort him, leaving Grell to the outside of their bubble, alone once more. They walked on for an hour, words were unspoken between either of them except for the sweet nothings that Eric would murmur to Alan.

Grell sighed, that caused Alan to look over and then separate from Eric. Grell stared at Alan, who gave him a concerned look, and the redhead said,"I'd like to go home, please, I don't feel like having tea-"

"No, I know you an William had a fight a while back but you need to stop sulking over it. It's hard watching you come to work at all with you dragging your feet through the door. The department is starting to actually worry about you," Alan explained. "Please, I know you've been worked hard but at least try to lighten up, a nice tea would help you."

Grell shook his head. "No, I can give myself that at home..."

"Aw, Alan, you can't lead a horse to water and expect it to drink it," Eric quoted gruffly, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a black book, it wasa To Die List,"we only looked up and down for you because Spears have you an assignment to do, it requires a team, you, me, and Alan are going to deal with it. It's going to happen in two months, a lot are going to die and Spears wants it done fast. Are you up for it?"

The redhead stared at the folder, it was touched by William. He could tell because when he took it to open it, William had signed the first page to approve of the mission. Grell briefly checked the papers inside and then looked up at Alan and Eric; they were curiously looking back at him, waiting for a response.

A snowflake fell upon the tip of Grell's nose. He brushed it off. "Why give me a collection that late?"

"He never wanted to say this but you're now on vacation up until then, the higher ups forced him to give you a break because of the way you alerted the department so...I guess it's just a way to apologizing."

William would never apologize, that was a fact. Eric only said that to give Grell some sort of comfort. It was quiet as their stood there, pedestrians walked passed them, Grell sighed,"So you were going to take me to tea to tell me all this, yes?" Alan nodded fervently. "I find it kind of you to do, but staying in my bed would be better for myself. I'm sorry, but..I just want to be alone for a while..."

Without waiting for a response, he walked into an alley and faded into the shadows, leaving a teardrop behind. Alan glanced up at Eric, murmuring,"I thought he would have enjoyed tea. It's hard to see him brooding left and right all day, it's just depressing." He and Eric walked away. "I tried to help..."

"I know you did, but he has that look in his eye, I have a feeling he wasn't here in this world for a stroll like we are." Alan giggled and Eric chuckled, but they done so solemnly. "He'll do something stupid soon, I can feel it."

* * *

><p><strong>READ AND REVIEW~!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

* * *

><p>The pounding migraine in his head was a familiar wake up call to Grell Sutcliff but one that he hadn't felt in a while. To his left upon the bedside table was a bottle of vodka given to him by someone the night before. He remembered watching the dancing flames and popping of the dried logs and drinking himself to sleep. To his right the fireplace had nothing but ashes and chunks of charred logs that fell at the first touch of a dust particle.<p>

Last night was a repeat of the night before, except for the drink. Today was the day he was supposed to be free of his vacation. He groaned when he heard his coo-coo clock go off, playing a lively German tune. He wanted to throw the bottle at it but decided not to, he longingly stared at the bottle and thanked himself to keep it half empty. He was glad for his abstemiousness habits when it would come to alcohol. Languidly he hauled himself out of bed and stumbled to the floor.

He wore only his shirt, he grumbled and reached up to search for his classes on the nightstand. Once he placed it on he saw that the clock was telling him he would be late by thirty minutes.

"Fuck!" He growled, lateness means pay cut. Groaning, he got up and searched around for anything that could cover himself; he took only his pants, vest, arm-cuffs, and a black coat. He searched around and found a red and white stripped lace It was meant for Christmas but it was December, he shrugged and took it.

The migraine fallowed him to the lavatory, he struggled to place on the bow. Frustrated, he left it a mess and opened a drawer under his sink to take out a pill dispenser containing Tylenol. Taking two gave him relief but he couldn't swallow it. He tried to turn the faucet on but discovered that the pipes were frozen to a point of where the water couldn't even drip. He saw in the reflection. pass the bathroom door, that the bottle of vodka was still there. He raced to it and gulped down the medicine and the alcohol.

His balance was comprehended by the liquid entering his body, he staggered for the door, completely forgetting that the vodka was still at hand. His free hand fumbled for the pocket watch in his vest and his mind skipped two thoughts as he tried to figure out where to meet Eric and Alan for the mission. He glanced around and saw a black folder, he picked it up and sent it away, then he took his keys and I.D. to begin his journey out into the cold.

-...-

"It's cold as hell, getting drunk is a way of getting warm," Eric defended Grell, but Alan countered,"We're gong to a burning home, shouldn't that be enough to keep him warm?"

Grell smiled lopsidedly at them.

"Well, he's going to reap the people out in the front, at least, that's what I planned him to do but he might fuck up badly."

"How can you tell he's drunk?" Alan leaned over to take a whiff, he held his nose. "My god...he reeks!"

"See that there? Drunk I say..."

Here Grell was, as Eric had said, drunk. He was seated upon a bench in the garden, waiting for what they were going to direct him. The redhead lacked his gloves and was holding the arm of the bench, his fingers tapping the smooth handle, uncaring if the metal was cold. He began to be impatient and that smile faded into a near pout, then he somehow composed himself and relaxed, he sniffled and brought his hands to his lap to twiddle thumbs with himself. Eric stared at him.

"Then again, he looks relatively normal..." He was implying to allow Grell to go about, reaping while drunk, but Alan shook his head. "Then where the hell do you want to put him?"

Alan checked his watch. He sighed,"We got five minutes, look, the kitchen is already burning." He pointed at the building, towards one of the windows, where smoke billowed out and shouts began to rise from the blackness. The pair exchanged anxious looks to one another, then an explosion occurred. "Grell! Stay here! And for the sake of any god higher than us, don't be seen!"

Without waiting for Grell to react, they were off, leaving Grell to himself. Once they were out of the area, Grell got up and stretched himself. The pills had taken affect already and his migraine was gone. The alcohol he consumed had been ebbed away ages ago, the acting of being a drunk had paid off and he was now free to go about on his own. In all honesty, he was late by thirty minutes, without an excuse he came about as being drunk and the two had bought it.

His stretching was done and he walked around the frozen garden, ignoring the screams of servants that tried to flee out of the building. He stared at them, those bodies pouring out with flames engulfing them. They looked so pretty. He wandered over to an open window. By only an interim of half an hour over a majority of the manor was nothing but a giant bonfire. The flames bounced and was warm enough to keep Grell at a temperate mood.

Cinematic Records came flying here and there when he smashed through a window to enter the burning home. He wandered aimlessly until he crossed paths with a servant that was ready to be reaped. Grell mused and summoned his chainsaw to cleave him in half, collect his soul, and record his life to judge him dead. He went on to the maid nearby and then another man that was by the stairs. From the other side of the corridor, he guessed he was at the West side of the mansion, he saw Eric rushing by to gather a handful of souls.

Grell went up the stairs and traveled to and fro, going past an open room where Alan was judging a soul as quickly as he could. Grell watched him handled those strips with delicacy and dexterity, then as he go up and faced the door, Grell had already strutted for a set of doors that appeared interesting. He avoided the falling structure of the home and kicked away a flaming body collected by Alan earlier. He glanced around and saw the brunette's scythe.

By the time Alan had exited the room Grell had already entered and shut the doors behind him. This area of the house was untouched by the flames but he sniffed the air, only to find that there was no oxygen.

His eyes scanned the room for anyone, he saw a blue-haired man dressed in the clothes of a noble; he was sitting upon a chair in what appeared to be the library. Both him and Grell's eyes had met, but Grell had the feeling that the air was suffocating him. Grell approached him while taking out the black folder.

Names were already blanked out, showing that Alan and Eric had already collected them. Only two names, Earl Vincent Phantomhive and Lady Rachel Phantomhive. Grell looked upon the profile picture and then at the man, he said aloud,"Today's your lucky day, you are quite devilishly handsome but it's a shame for me to reap you."

The man's eyes were warm, they were welcoming him into reaping him. Grell raised the chainsaw above his head and slashed open his chest to look over his Cinematic Records. He scanned through quickly until he saw a red haired woman, called Angelina Durless; she bore a striking resemblance to Angelina Barnett, the famous Madam Red. Grell froze in place, transfixed at her, but decided he could look at the Cinematic Records later. He quickly judged him dead until a boy shouting,"Father!" came to be.

Grell quickly went off to the door and stayed at the one that failed to open; by his side the other door burst open with a little boy screaming and coughing. Grell was sure he was not going to die and swiftly went behind the little boy to go off into the hallway. Grell went on through the hallway, he supposed he could leave Rachel Phantomhive to someone else but then discovered the woman standing by a window that overlooked the front of the manor's yard.

She was young, blond, and very gorgeous. Grell envied her slightly and was beaming with joy when he watched a beam from above, flaming, suddenly fall open her, ultimately crushing her and then setting her aflame just as much as the house. Grell whirled about his chainsaw and sliced her open, her Cinematic Records twisted around and he gathered her soul and looked them over for judgement. As it turns out, she too was related to Angeline Durless, both her and her husband. He learned that she and Angelina were sisters, he watched Angeline age over the years with that longing look upon her pale face.

Within a second, he realized. Angelina was struck with an ailment, the kind one would get out of love.

Grell wanted to watch it over even closer until he saw a carriage in the distance, it stopped abruptly and then a woman in red, with red hair, came running out, shrieking the names of her loved ones and cursing her Lord, her God, and anyone she could think of. Grell got up from Rachel's body and stared down at the poor Madam Red that suffered a hysterical breakdown before the home of her sister and brother-in-law. His grin faded and his attention was ripped away when he felt a strong arm wrap around his neck and then drag him from where he stood.

"Damn it, you fuck, you played dumb shit with us to avoid reaping, huh? You damn fuck! Wait until Spears gets his hands on you, fuck! FUCK!" He heard the enraged voice of Eric curse over the flames that surrounded him. Grell ignored him and remained quiet; no matter how loudly Eric yelled at him, no matter how much the fire roared and the house creaked, Grell could hear the excruciating screams of Angelina Durless above all.

* * *

><p><strong><em> READ &amp; REVIEW!<em>**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

* * *

><p>"He was never drunk to begin with!"<p>

"At least give him a break-"

"Give him? What about me? Have I ever come up on the job so smashed that I couldn't focus? Hell yeah I have, and I got the job done!"

Eric had dragged Grell into the shadows of the burning Manor, their faces were covered in ashes from staying longer than planned. With a few moments of silence they dissipated into the darkness and then emerged into a random street of the Shinigami Realm, Grell remained silent the entire time. He suddenly wished he had the vodka back when he heard Eric's voice boom, causing the entire street to turn its heads to look at them. Eric was readying to strike but then Alan stopped him.

Senses came back to Grell, but he could not face Eric completely when he was suddenly jostled to the ground without warning. The red head struggled to get to his feet, and he managed to do so within seconds as Eric revolted against Alan's grip.

"This is the last fucking time I'm defending that bastard!" Eric shouted, but Grell had managed to take off into a full sprint down the street, bumping into a Shinigami once in a while and causing them to fly over to the side. Grell continued to run, he was out of sight and earshot within seconds. He rounded the last corner of the third block and then threw himself against a wall to lean against it. He was shaking, yet he had no idea why he was shaking to begin with.

During Eric and Alan's fight he failed to hear their voices. Instead, he heard Angelina's wails still echoing through his mind, he could hear her raving madly at the inferno of the manor. Grell held himself and could only erupt into tears, those tears were out of pity for her. Pity that she suffered from a broken heart, he would never know the full details but he could just feel for her. He held empathy for her, he wanted to return to her and cry with her the tears of a shattered, unrequited love.

"Mr. Sutcliff?"

Grell sniffled, he had his eyes closed and his hysteria had made him forget where he was. He felt the world was staring at him, he could guess it was. A leather finger went to his eyes and wiped them free of those salted tears. A few seconds passed and he felt a firm, but supportive hand, upon his shoulder. He jumped, thinking it was Eric, and opened his eyes. He could make out the blond, then those thin framed glasses, that defined the appearance of Ronald Knox.

The young trainee adjusted his glasses and addressed Grell once more,"Miss Sutcliff? Are you alright?"

The redhead's weary eyes looked around to find that about three or four Shinigami, one he could recognize as Lacey from the Dispatch Department, surrounding them but at a safe distance. Grell felt as though he had been put out into the spotlight without knowing so, he wanted to gather up his coat and cover himself to hide away from them. And he was about to do so until Ronald caught his attention once more with a soft voice,"Hey, just calm down. Can you walk or do you want to stay a bit here?"

Grell pipped up,"I want to go."

"Alright, let's go. I have a study group to go to right now, is it ok that you can come with?"

"Is it at the Dawson Cafe?" Ronald nodded. "The second floor?" Another nod. "Then I'll go..."

Ronald gave Grell a moment's pause before walking. They walked side by side in silence, the sound of their heels clicking against the cold pavement sounded like the steady hoof beats of a horse. Compared to Grell, Ronald was dressed more for the weather; he had a blue scarf around his neck and wore woolly gloves, he had a long coat that seemed to be warm and thick enough to keep his body heat collected. Grell envied him, just slightly, as he crossed his arms over his chest and shivered.

The young Shinigami took notice of th redhead's plight and generously removed his scarf and offered it to Grell. "It's a bit of a walk there, why not wear this?"

"I'm...I'm fine, Ronnie," Grell huffed. The blue scarf was still near his head. "No, really."

"You sure? It's quite a walk from here to there," Ronald started, giving that tone that meant he was warning him. Grell stared at it, then he took it to wrap it around his neck. He ruffled his neck a bit and then rested himself into the thickness of the blue scarf. "Why aren't you wearing any proper clothes?"

Grell sighed,"I got up late this morning and forgot to get something warm...it's the first day of work since my vacation, and I blew it off. I doubt William would give me another vacation for as long as I live. And we live pretty long too, that's the horror of it." He gave a sneeze and then Ronald was rearing to take off his coat. "No, keep that. I already have a coat and I'm used to the weather enough already. It's not that I can get sick or anything."

"I'm just making sure you're alright, Miss Sutcliff."

"...I appreciate it. Come here, escort me to the Cafe."

"Yes Miss Sutcliff."

And then Ronald crooked his arm and allowed Grell to hook his own within it.

Over the passed few years, Grell had taught from time to time at the Academy mostly as a Death Scythe Handling Technician since that was what he ended up majoring in and was a requirement to be a Dispatcher. When he was free of work, he would find himself tutoring or being dragged away to a study group by the whim of anyone who assumed he was free. This was one of those moments, well, not exactly, but Ronald Knox had apparently bounded by at the right time.

Ronald Knox. Ronald. _Ronnie._ He was such a sweet boy, very thoughtful and considerate of anyone; he was outgoing but levelheaded, his disposition would work well as a Dispatcher or even a higher rank. Compared to Grell, Ronald had enough patience to accomplish nearly anything. That was handed to him from Grell, who often led a two faced persona, one that would show a robust and rancor version of him while the other boasted a kind and warm soul that would be willing to help just about every student he would come across.

The good manners he has, chivalry actually, were given to him by Grell. He was as formal as William and compliant to anything like Alan. The only flaw to this good student was his habit of being late.

By the pace in which he was going, Grell had the impression that he was late once more to the meeting. Grell picked up the brisk steps and soon enough, they were at the Dawson Cafe, they ordered some coffee and went up the stairs to find three other classmates of Ronald that were busy sipping their drinks or studying.

"It's Ronnie," Vincent stated, he was a round faced brunette that wore the Academy glasses and an honest face to him. The way he sounded made him seem like a rough and tumble sort of man. He had a slight stubble forming, possibly from forgetting to shave properly. The two girls, whom Grell learned later to be Harriet and Iris, looked up from their books and gave the duo a smile as they sat down. "Oh, it's Mister Sutcliff." Grell scoffed. "I'm sorry, it's only proper to fallow rules."

Grell scoffed once more, then grimaced,"To Hell with those, informality can come about once in a good while." He placed his coffee cup down and glanced at the book Iris was looking in to. "You're reading up on death scythes?"

"Engines in particular," Ronald said,"you have an engine death scythe so I thought you could help us with the parts."

Grell looked at them in surprise. "Engine death scythes can only come through modifications, if you majored in what I have you can be licensed to have one of them at all."

Vincent nodded. "We know, but there's an upcoming test and we need a it of a better understanding of the parts, especially Ronald needs it."

He glanced at them, then sighed,"I suppose I can help you out, is there a specific engine you would all like to know about?" Grell reached about, looking for a pen and paper until Iris provided them. The students crowded closer to see Grell, when he noticed them nearing he cleared his throat. "I need to know, children."

"How about...that big thing with a lot of blades that I've seen a couple Shinigami ride on?" Ronald inquired.

"Oh, the lawnmower, it's quite a simple thing, very heavy...but simple." He began to sketch out the motor of it.

Time passed, he had forgotten his troubles of the morning as he tutored the eager students. He went on for at least two hours before suddenly having a hand come down right upon his shoulder. He growled, suddenly infuriated at the contact, he looked at the students, only to find that they had abandoned their seats to go towards the bookcase or wall, in Ronald's position. Grell guessed that they had seen something terrifying, he froze and saw the leather fingers readying to dig into his shoulder.

When Grell turned, with the pen slipping from his fingers to the ground, he blanched at the man that had drained him of all happiness a few months before.

"William," he uttered, he saw that William was glaring down at him.

* * *

><p><strong>READ &amp; REVIEW!<strong>


End file.
